Timing
by Maddiebug
Summary: Driving home from Alya's party, Marinette gets in a very fatal car crash. After dying, she has many difficul realizations and must make a choice. "It was not the right time"


it was not the right time. Death was not supposed to happen to young was a fact I had known my entire life. Death was reserved for the elderly, the sick and frail. Death wasn't supposed to happen to teenagers.

Maybe the occasional car crash or tragic illness would happen, suddenly killing someone at a young age, but I never thought that I could die. I thought I was invincible, as stupid as it sounds.

I wasn't afraid of death, unlike other people I knew. Honestly, I was almost fascinated by it. I couldn't imagine myself dying, but I knew everything I had to know. I wanted to always be safe, so I did everything I could to prevent any accidents. I had dodged death before, and, like an idiot, I believed I could avoid it again.

But I couldn't.  
The newspapers called it a "tragic accident." My parents thought that I wasn't paying attention. My partner, Chat Noir thought I was drunk. Even my friends don't know the truth.

I was prepared for death. I wasn't planning on it, but I was ready in case anything could happen. "Expect the unexpected" was my ideology. The night I died, would have gone so much differently if I had had better timing. It was the middle of the night and I felt done. I left the party, feeling more tired than anyone should when driving, but I took the risk.

Since there is a significant decrease in traffic levels after midnight, I felt safe driving home, even if I couldn't stop yawning. Forty percent of fatal accidents have at least one driver impaired by alcohol or other substances, but I wasn't.

The chances of me dying were very slim. Besides, I was a safe driver. The only accident I'd ever been in was the first time I drove a car, so it wasn't really my fault, and all I did was back into a pole. Odds were against me dying in the road.

Since there were greater odds of me of falling asleep while driving, I turned my radio as loud as I could and sang along with the music. I had to keep my brain active so I would continue to pay attention. I knew that my eyes had to be on the roads at all times. I didn't want to space out, but that's exactly what I did.

#

When I saw that car driving at me, I probably had time to move. But I didn't. Instead, I just froze. My half-asleep brain processed what was happening around me. There was no panic. I just accepted it. I was ready for it.

People like me aren't supposed to die at such a young age. I knew the facts. I knew that humans can overcome great pain. There are news articles about people lifting cars or running at impossible speeds in times of crisis. If they could do that, I could manage to drive ten miles home at two in the morning. There was no way that I was going to die, right?

Wrong.

I told myself that I'd be okay. That it was like every other time I'd gotten injured. I said that I would be hurt for a while, but after time, it would make me stronger. I told myself that I would be okay, and like every other time, I drove one of those metal death machines known as cars, I actually started to believe myself.

Even though I was Ladybug, I couldn't overcome statistics.

Then it hit me. I began to doubt everything I believed in, every little idea I'd ever had. The statistics meant nothing when faced with real danger. There was no way that I could survive this, and on the slight chance that I did, I'd have to deal with major brain damage or paralysis for the rest of my life. No matter what choice I made, it couldn't end well, for me or the other driver, so I made the easiest choice, forgetting for a brief moment that it would be the most painful choice. I did nothing.

Also, it hit me. Literally.

The incoming truck slammed into my little Honda Civic, as I did nothing, Taylor Swift music blaring through my speakers. The shock of two cars crashing together shook me to my core. The collision boomed like thunder. The glass of the windshield cracked like lighting, and my right side windows shattered, slicing up my face and arms. The airbag exploded like a bomb, breaking my arms and nose. The front of the car was totaled, smashing up my legs. Somehow the roof caved in, stopping just before smashing my car. Apparently, when they found me, the entire car was upside, and I was barely in place, held by my seatbelt, a lifeline for my seemingly lifeless body. I don't remember the crash itself, just the brief moment of fear and sudden pain I felt, before feeling nothing. Someone rushed to my door, to pull me out, but it was too late. They couldn't do anything to help me.

It was almost ironic. Ladybug, the hero of paris, who saved everyone, couldn't even save herself.

They called 911 and I was rushed to the hospital. Paramedics scrambled to save me but it was all for nothing. By the time we arrived at the hospital, they could no longer feel a pulse. I was out. My body was colder than anyone should ever be. My brain was no longer functioning. My heart had stopped beating. They tried everything they had, but it was the wrong time. I was dead.

But I wasn't gone.

#

I should apologize to anyone who actually reads this. I began this tale the in worst way possible. I started at the end, which is the opposite of what I should've done.

Not that I ever really had and end.

Stories, even real ones, usually start at the beginning. Normal people don't read the end of a book before the rest of the book, tha t's just me. I like to read the final sentence first, to read something that I can't understand and then, as I read the rest of the book, it makes sense. To me, the final line is maybe more important than the start.

In theory, the beginning of a book is the actual start of a story. However, the point of a theory is that people try to prove it wrong. I feel like there's something poetic about reading the end before the beginning. It has deeper meanings and ideas that the reader can never grasp until after they read the rest of the book.

It's all there, right in front of them, the final line, deep with emotions and different interpretations, that they cannot understand.

It's only once the entire book has been read that it makes sense. The line will hit them, deeper than if they hadn't known it was coming.

Maybe if I had known how I died, from the very beginning, I could've done something differently. I could have left the party at an earlier time, or just spent the night at my Alya's house. Maybe I could have prevented my death. Maybe I would still be alive.

However helpful it may have been to know the ending, I didn't know when my life would end. I didn't even know how I would end, which is how life is supposed to go.

I for one, always read the last sentence of a book first, but that's not what this is about. Stories don't really start at the end, and they never end at the beginning.

My story seems like it starts with an ending, but in reality, it was a beginning in disguise. A beginning to truly being happy. A beginning that would lead to me being who I was supposed to be. It led to a better Marinette, a better Ladybug. Somehow, death made me be the best me possible.

Granted, it was a weird disguise for a beginning. Even for me. I never thought that dying would be the thing that changed me, but that's probably why it worked so well. I never thought I could die, but someone else did. Someone made sure I died.

#

So I was dead. Honestly that's pretty much all I have to say about it. For me, it wasn't really a fun situation. I never saw a light at the end of the tunnel or any of that shit. I was basically a ghost, invisible, silent, but I could see everyone around me. I was tied to my body, unable to float more than a few feet away from it. I'd say it was pretty much your standard death without an afterlife story, but what do I know. My death was anything but standard.

I did hear a voice, but it took a while. It was days of watching my friends and family grieve before anything spoke to me.

"Mario, it's not your time," the loud, booming, inexplicably British voice told me. "You were not supposed to die."

 _Well, duh_ , I thought, slightly confused for a moment, because my name is Marinette, and "Mario" isn't as much real name for a person, as it is a videogame franchise, but I decided it would be best to roll back the attitude and figure out what the voice wanted from me. "What do you mean?" My voice was weak and quiet in comparison. _Damn_ , I thought, _I really should've worked on public speaking when I had the chance._ _Being Ladybug did not prepare me for this._

"I am Death, and it is not your time" the voice repeated, slightly annoyed with me, as if it were an obvious fact.

How was I supposed to know that I wasn't supposed to be dead? Clearly, it was something I had no control over. Of course, being the intelligent, strong,incredibly awkward, young woman that I was, and still am, the best response I could come up with was, "Thanks?"

"You are welcome." The voice paused. "While I appreciate the gratitude, it doesn't change the current situation."

"What exactly is the current situation?" I didn't even try to hide the curiosity in my voice. No matter what came next, I knew it would be interesting.

"You are supposed to be living."

"So I've been told," I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

#

"Due to a terribly unforeseen tragedy, someone tried, and succeeded at killing you."

"Who would want to kill me?" I may not have been the nicest person, but I couldn't think of more than five people who would actually kill me. Maybe six people, but one of them I could totally take down before they got close to killing me...

 _Unless he meant Hawkmoth. He would want to kill me, if he knew who I was._

"Someone who is supposed to kill you, but not yet."

"So what's the problem? I'm dead, it's not my fault. Who killed me?"

"I'm afraid that I am unable to discuss that with you. You were killed, but I assure you, it will not happen again. Not until the right time." Death spoke with an ominous air of confidence that was the exact opposite of how I felt.

"I think it's important to know who killed me," I groaned. "Wait a second, what do you mean, 'again?' " I asked, emphasizing the air quotes, "I'm already dead."

"If we send you back now, people will notice and question it, but if you stay?"

"Then I'm dead?" I guessed, apparently, incorrectly.

"Then you never get the chance to be who you were meant to be." The voice of Death told me, "You are supposed to have a long life. You were going to be successful and amazing."

"While that all sounds great," I spoke, unable to hide my sarcasm, "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now I'm here,and dead, so what do we do?"

Death sighed. "I don't know."

"You're Death, you should know everything, you should have a plan" I scoffed, annoyed at the _dead end_ the conversation seemed to be reaching.

"You aren't supposed to be dead. You had a good life ahead of you. You were going to be happy. You and Chat Noir would save many people, and you'd eventually have a normal life and find real Happiness."

I almost laughed. I'd never know how it felt to be normal, to feel happy. As Ladybug, I had always put others first. Even when it cost me my own life. "It's not like you could send me back to life, right?"

"I already said it's too late, I can't send you back now" Death told me.

I shrugged, as much as you can shrug when you're a formless spirit floating in an endless void, "Then send me back to some other time."

#

"What?" For once, I had confused Death.

"If you can't send me back to now, send me back earlier. Send me to the end of the party, or before I left home that night, then I can change what I did so I won't die."

"That actually makes sense," Death told me, seemingly surprised at my intelligence.

"Perfect, send me back."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Death asked me, hesitating for a moment.

"I'm sure." I told Death with as much confidence as I could muster.

#

Before I could blink, I was leaving the party, ten minutes before I died. I was alive, which was frankly a relief. And I wasn't in the hospital, or the morgue. _That would've been Awkward._ And I was Marinette.

I felt myself going through the motions. I put my shoes back on as I ate a final piece of cake. I hugged Alya and my other friends goodbye and walked out the door, ready to go home.

As I entered my car, I had the same thoughts about car crashes and death as I had had previously, but they felt different. Less ominous and more ironic. I felt ready.

I turned my music up loud and waited a couple minutes before leaving. This time, I wanted to be safe.

I wasn't scared anymore. I knew I'd get home safely. I was a good driver. Besides, I'd already died once and that felt like enough for me. As I backed out of Alya's driveway, I thought about what Death had told me. Safe in the forbidden knowledge, I turned onto the road and drove home, managing to avoid a car accident of any variety.

I knew I would make it home. I knew that I was meant for greater things. As Ladybug and as Marinette. I couldn't die yet.

It was not the right time


End file.
